


(not in the blood)

by Ejunkiet



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, Found family is the only family, Some mature themes, and found family feels, expect shenanigans and hijinks, the unit bravo as a family tumblr prompt collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: Assorted prompts exploring the found family dynamic of unit bravo.--It’s not the destruction that catches her attention - it’s Mason, shirtless, his jeans undone and hanging low on his hips, arms curled around a blue eyed, blue haired Fae, their veil absent, revealing the almost pearlescent gleam of their skin and the delicate curl of their ears.It’s Mason, with his lips pressed against the gentle curve of the Fae’s neck, a slight sliver of fang visible in the low light from where his teeth have pierced the skin of their throat.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain, Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles) & Natalie "Nat" Sewell
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	1. Nat & [R]isk & stress relief (Mason & Natalie)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightpinkpeppercorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightpinkpeppercorn/gifts).



> Assorted prompts, including those from the NSFW alphabet (plus follow-up).
> 
> \--
> 
> One: Natalie Sewell walks in on Specialist Agent Mason in an intimate moment.  
> Two: Mason and Farah find Nate's "personal" collection in the library.  
> Three: Ava gives a demonstration after a challenge.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The NSFW alphabet prompt (Natalie Sewell & [R]isk) & continuation.
> 
> \--
> 
> _"What I wouldn’t give for a first person account of Nat walking in on Mason and the member of Team Zulu in the training room"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt from the wonderful brightpinkpeppercorn!**

**Natalie Sewell & [R]isk**

Natalie and the idea of risk don’t usually go well together, especially not when it’s the other party that's put at risk.

It’s not that she’s concerned about herself - not when she’d gladly give her life in the place of another - but that she’s concerned for the safety of others, especially when the detective is involved. The idea of putting someone she cares about in a position that could potentially lead to harm is in and of itself, unappealing (as much as Mason calls her a stick in the mud for even refusing to entertain the idea of using some of her… other abilities to enhance the pleasure of sex).

It’s just not something that she wants in a relationship, as much as showing a little fang appears to help Mason’s experience.

But - in a safe environment and with established trust, using hands and soft silk and sometimes, maybe, some rope - she can be convinced to experiment. She enjoys it, even, in the safety of the bedroom and her lovers arms, and the knowledge that this intimacy is based on things that are real and human, and not some sort of occult fascination.

(She will never be able to forget the time she’d walked in on Mason with a member of Team Zulu in the training room, his fangs out and the scent of blood and lust so thick on the air she’d almost choked on it - and from there on out, fraternising of that sort had been strictly banned from shared communal areas.)

\--

**Stress Relief**

It’s not as if she hadn’t had adequate warning. There had been a vast assortment of noises that should have served as an indication of the exact nature of what was going on inside that room. It’s not as if they’d made a concerted effort to hide the evidence of their activities either - there were clothes strewn about the hallway outside, and a sock on the door, for christ's sake - but Natalie had been - distracted. 

So much has happened in the few short months since they’d first arrived in Wayhaven, and after the abduction and subsequent rescue of their new charge just a few short hours ago - Natalie, rightfully, has a lot on her mind.

She’s just left the hospital wing, navigating the halls of the Agency facility with an ease borne of practice, and if she had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed the not-so-subtle signs that something was awry before she reached the training room. 

If she had been anywhere near her right mind, she definitely would not have opened the godforsaken door.

The first thing she notices is the blood. 

It’s unmistakable, the scent of it heavy on the air, and she can taste the sharp tang of magic, feel the spark of it across the back of her tongue as she inhales. It’s Fae blood, and that’s a dangerous sort - a type that contains magic powerful enough to bypass a vampire's natural healing abilities and overwhelm their senses.

That maybe explains why Mason and his… beau didn’t sense her before she entered the room.

It certainly explains why they don’t notice her now, an unwanted observer, one hand pressed tightly against her mouth as the other clutches her throat. As the sound of moans reaches her ears, she swallows thickly and tries not to breathe, falling back against the doorframe.

There are two people in the room, entangled in an intimate embrace amidst the wreckage of what had once been a training dummy, but now consists of splinters of wood and plastic and artificial straw, scattered across the floor. 

\- But it’s not the destruction that catches her attention. 

It’s Mason, shirtless, his jeans undone and hanging low on his hips, arms curled around a blue eyed, blue haired Fae, their veil absent, revealing the almost pearlescent gleam of their skin and the delicate curl of their ears. It’s Mason, with his lips pressed against the gentle curve of the Fae’s neck, a slight sliver of fang visible in the low light from where his teeth have pierced the skin of their throat.

It’s the clatter of her shoe against the doorframe that finally draws Mason’s attention, his dark eyes glazed as he lifts his head, and Natalie can see the glimmer of crimson on his lips, hear the rapid fire pace of his heart as he struggles to focus, searching the room for the source of the sound.

Her throat burns as she squeezes her eyes shut against the image, her heart racing within the confines of her chest as the scene is blotted out by soft darkness. A tightness clutches at her chest, choking in her throat as she tries to swallow against the sudden thickness of her tongue, and she holds her breath, waiting for the momentary panic to pass.

Finding her voice at last, she manages to speak. “I’ll - give you two a moment.”

Hand grasping at the frame, she stumbles out of the room, fighting the urge to gasp at air as she manages to take a few stumbling steps away from the scene. Her gums itch, the burn in her throat turning into a piercing ache, and turning the corner, she near-collapses against the wall, allowing herself to take several shallow breaths, flushing the taste of blood from her senses.

Mason joins her outside a short while later, his shirt a little misshapen, hanging loose across his frame, but otherwise fully clothed. He’s hesitant as he walks over to her, coming to a stop a short distance away, uncertainty written over his features as he looks her over.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I- yes.” She manages a weak smile, which quickly morphs into a disapproving frown as she glances back towards the training room, where the Fae, once again veiled, is surreptitiously making their escape down the opposite hall. “The training rooms? You couldn’t have waited until you were... someplace more private?”

He lifts a shoulder, a brief smirk pulling at his lips before he lets it fall, leveling her with another long, searching look. His grey eyes are cool and focused as he takes her in, settling on where her hands tremble next to her thighs, and she turns her palms into the fabric of her jeans, running them along the rough material, willing them to settle.

It works, for the most part, but there’s no hiding from the concern in Mason’s voice when he asks again, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

She takes a deep, steady breath, and then another. Each one comes easier, the burn in her throat easing into little more than a faint ache, and she meets Mason’s gaze and holds it, feeling her equilibrium return. 

“I appreciate your concern,” She says instead of a proper reply, easing away from where she’s been leaning against the wall. He doesn’t make a move to stop her as she slips past him, his solid grey eyes following her as she walks down the hall, and she pauses before continuing the thought, with the truth rather than a lie. “I will be.”

At the end of the corridor, she draws to a stop one last time, turning her head to send him a pointed look over her shoulder. “If I catch you in there like that again, there _will_ be consequences.”

His curling laughter follows her down the hall as a small smile finds its way onto her lips.


	2. The Special Collection (Mason, Nate & Farah)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farah isn’t usually one to shift the blame, but in all fairness, it was _Mason_ who started it.
> 
> \--
> 
> Another prompt & continuation from the NSFW alphabet: Nate & [D]irty Secrets (his smutty library collection)  
>  **Also a gift for the wonderful lilyoffandoms!!**

**Nathaniel Sewell & [D]irty Secret**

Nathaniel Sewell doesn’t like to think he has secrets. They aren’t secrets, as such, there are just some things that need - time, and adequate space to share properly. It’s with the same conviction that he maintains that he does _not_ tell lies, but under particular circumstances, will withhold certain truths until the time is right and they should be revealed.

The question of whether he has any dirty secrets is not one he will answer easily (well, depending on the circumstances, and how nicely he’s asked), but the truth is, he _does_. It’s not as if he’s keeping them hidden - they just haven’t come up yet in conversation (for now).

Also, it depends on how you define dirty versus intimate. There are things that Nate wouldn’t say overtly, but instead show in his actions - like how he likes the art of wooing, and being seduced, and the idea of letting himself be vulnerable - as much as he can, with what he is -- how he likes to hand over the reins and let someone else take the lead for a while. How he loves languages and the nuance of it, and the way certain words carry specific meanings that can only be communicated within that context and culture.

But for actual, legitimate dirty secrets -- Nate has read an _extensive_ amount of literature, from all genres, including some of the more… sensual ones, and he’d love nothing more than to share/enjoy that literature with his partner. Maybe experiment with it too. The man _loves_ books.

Tl;dr - smutty literature.

\--

**The Special Collection**

Farah isn’t usually one to shift the blame, but in all fairness, it was _Mason_ who started it.

"You're not pinning this on me," the other man growls from his perch across the room, his words writhed in smoke as he finishes his fifth cigarette in the same span of minutes. "This was all your idea."

 _"You didn't have to take the entire wall down!"_ She can't help the way the words burst out of her, her voice pitched an octave higher than usual, which would be funny in any other situation. "Besides, it's not as if you weren't happy for the distraction!"

Farah is not - panicking. Nope, not at all. The situation was totally salvageable, all they had to do was repair the hidden panel and find other copies of the books and art pieces that were stashed there, a simple thing with that internet thing called Ebay, right? Piece of cake, as they say!

Holding her breath, she takes a delicate step forward into the explosion of splintered wood and masonry that had taken over this wing of the Warehouse library, wincing as she takes in the extent of the damage.

Stormy gray eyes track her progress, heavy scepticism in his tone as he ignores her statement and asks, "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm looking for… _aha!"_

With a flourish, she holds up a splintered glass frame, the canvas within scratched and torn, leaving only a single, floating head of a mournful samurai. Her expression falls as she surveys the damage. "Oh no…"

"That was a Shunga."

Farah startles, badly - her grip on the frame slipping, sending it tumbling back down into the wreckage with a muffled crash.

Nate releases a small sound as it lands from where he stands in the doorway; a short, sharp exhale of air, as if the destruction had pained him, his expression aghast as he takes in the damage done to the room.

"Just what-"

There's a crash from the otherside of the room, causing both Farah and Nate to flinch and turn to where a window has been smashed open, glass shards littering the carpet as Mason makes a speedy departure.

She narrows her eyes in annoyance at the betrayal. "Oh for the love of-"

"Farah!" Nate's voice is stern and sharp, ringing around the room, and she thinks this could be the first time she’s heard him raise his voice like this. “ _Explain_.”

Looking between him and the window, she purses her lips, gauging the distance. It’s risky, but he’s still not taken a step into the room, hesitant to set foot amidst the destruction - and _this_ she can use to her advantage.

(Plus, _she’s fast._ )

A smile curving up her lips, she shoots a sympathetic look at her friend and mentor, taking in his dishevelled appearance - it looks as if he’d just come from the training rooms, his hair knotted into a messy bun, his shirt unbuttoned, leaving him shivering under the cool breeze of the air conditioning.

(She feels bad, she really _does -_ it’s not as if they’d intended this to happen when they found the secret panel, but the wards he’d placed on it had made it almost _impossible_ to open...)

“I’m sorry about your collection, Nate. I promise I’ll replace it.”

“Farah, it’s... wait.” His eyes widen as she shifts on her feet, angling her body as she prepares herself. “Farah, _don’t-!”_

He flashes forward into the room, almost reaching her before - she’s gone, out the window, laughter on her lips at the thrill as she escapes into the forest beyond.

_“Farah!”_


	3. Ava and [O]ral: eat out to help out (giving & receiving)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You look like you know what to do with that. Does that come from experience?”_

**Ava and [O]ral: eat out to help out (giving & receiving)**

_“You look like you know what to do with that. Does that come from experience?”_

When you first ask the question, the only response you will get is a long, steady stare - and after a minute or two, maybe, _just maybe,_ a single, perfunctory raise of a brow.

But if you’re observant and patient (and with Ava, you _have to be_ ) and look a little closer, past the shockingly clear jade of her eyes, and the sharp, severe cut of her cheekbones, you’ll be able to see the faint hint of the blush that stains her cheek.

“Am I experienced in such matters?” She asks again, and the blush on her cheeks grows darker, even as a glint of determination enters her eye. Pushing off from the counter top, she takes a step forward until she’s standing in front of you, arms crossed above her chest. “I can promise you, I have far more experience than you could imagine.”

She studies you for a moment, a finger raised to tap at the perfect line of her chin.

“Perhaps a demonstration would serve better than words.”

She moves closer as she says it: one step, two. You can feel the heat of her skin where it comes into contact with yours, her presence almost overwhelming as she presses you back into marble counters of the communal kitchen, and you can smell the sweetness of the fruit she’s been eating on her breath, her lips pink and glistening under the harsh fluorescents.

The twitch of her lips is all the warning you get before she grabs you, arms wrapping around your shoulders and beneath your knees as she lifts you easily into her arms, and then she’s moving again, flashing through the corridors of the Warehouse facility.

Thankfully, the walkways are practically deserted at this hour, as the two of you have stayed _a lot later_ in the training rooms than you were anticipating. Even the communal kitchens had been empty when you’d visited them after the session, exhausted and somewhat chilled in your sweat soaked clothes by the ambient AC that regulated the temperature of the underground facility.

Watching as Ava had selected a peach from the basket of fresh fruit kindly provided for Agency personnel had been… inspiring, to say the least, leading to your not-so-well thought-out, entirely hormone-driven comment about her proficiency with such activities. (“You look like you know what to do with that. Does that come from experience?”)

Still, despite her rough handling, you still manage a laugh as she kicks open the door to your rooms - _yours_ , you note, not _hers_ \- and it’s enough to make her flush again, and you can see it spread, the heat chasing a path down the pale column of her throat before settling at her chest.

“ _Must_ you take so much enjoyment in this?”

“In - what, exactly?” You’re breathless, as you’re still laughing, but you manage to get the words out, and you’re rewarded with another blush, this one deeper than the ones that came before it, even as she purses her lips, the muscle in her jaw twitching as she gives you a narrow look.

“In _teasing_ me,” she says, as if it pains her to say it and it’s with another soft laugh that you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her down into a soft kiss.

She tastes like peaches, sweet and tart, but it’s the way she uses her tongue that is most informative… and you think maybe there’s some truth to her statement about experience after all.


End file.
